


A Familiar Kind of Warmth

by BuckinghamAlice



Series: Spending Holidays with the SuperBats [10]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce misses his parents, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Family, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mother's Day, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:37:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1598525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckinghamAlice/pseuds/BuckinghamAlice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After nearly forgetting Mother's Day, Bruce joins Clark in Smallville to celebrate the holiday with Ma Kent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Familiar Kind of Warmth

“Bruce, will you be okay this weekend?” Clark asked on Friday afternoon from inside the walk-in closet, where he was busily putting some of his things in a bag.

Bruce was sitting on the bed, unwrapping a bandage from around the forearm he had recently injured. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Clark stepped back into the bedroom and set his bag down. “Because I’m going…” His voice trailed off when he looked up and noticed what Bruce was doing. “Bruce, stop. Leave that alone!”

“Bandage needs to come off,” he grunted. He looked up just then and noticed the bag Clark had toted into the room and frowned. He hadn’t really been listening to what Clark was saying, but _that_ had his attention. “Where are _you_ going?”

Clark came closer and stopped Bruce’s hand from fooling with the bandage anymore. “Leave it. Let Alfred tend to it.”

“I asked a question,” Bruce returned, squirming out of Clark’s grip.

Clark smiled. “Didn’t know I needed your permission to leave your side. And I’m going to Smallville to spend the weekend with my mother.”

“I see,” Bruce replied, nodding. He momentarily considered asking if Clark was mad at him, but he knew better than that. Clark was honest enough to make his feelings known. But if it wasn’t _that_ , he wasn’t too sure what was with the sudden need to go home for the weekend, but he wasn’t going to ask.

“And I asked you a question,” Clark went on. “Will you be alright while I’m gone?”

Bruce sighed. “Of course. We’ve been apart longer than a weekend.”

“I know that,” Clark said, briefly running the back of his hand lightly along Bruce’s jaw. He then moved over to the dresser and grabbed socks and underwear. As he stuffed them in his bag, he continued, “I just… you know, this particular weekend might be rough on you…”

Bruce frowned. He hated when Clark worried too much about him… or even worse, when he treated him like he was fragile. “Clark, I’ll be _fine_. Enjoy your weekend with your parents.”

Clark nodded. “Well, okay.” He came closer and announced, “Then I’m going.” He leaned in and pressed a delicate kiss to Bruce’s lips and Bruce couldn’t help the corners of his mouth curving into the slightest smile. Clark started to move away but Bruce sat up a little higher and held his husband’s face close to him as he deepened the kiss, making it a little more passionate and a little less courteous. Not quite the kind of kiss that _had_ to lead to something, but exactly the kind of kiss that announced that something more was a possibility.

“Mm,” Clark sighed a moment later, when he pulled back. “That was nice.”

Bruce smirked but shrugged casually. “Well, I thought so.”

Bruce wrinkled his nose in response to Clark lightly tapping the aforementioned nose with one with one finger, and Clark laughed. “I’m still leaving.”

“I figured,” Bruce replied.

Clark headed for the door, but paused before he left the room. “You know where to find me if you _do_ need me. And I’m not saying you will, but… it’s okay if you do, okay?”

Bruce nodded. “I’m a big boy.”

“Goodbye, dear,” Clark said with a smile and a nod.

Bruce smiled in spite of himself. “See you soon, dearest.”

&&&

The next afternoon, Bruce was still in bed at nearly three o’clock, but he woke up when the bedroom door opened. He rolled over and covered his head with a blanket in anticipation of a curtain opening, but he knew he couldn’t dissuade Alfred for too long.

Before Bruce could get himself back to sleep, he heard Alfred’s voice. “Master Bruce? Sir, I need to change your bandage… and you need to wake up.”

Bruce groaned and squeezed his eyes shut tighter. “Why?”

Alfred sighed. “I need to change your bandage, as I said. And it might also do you some good to come downstairs amongst the living and eat something. I had prepared breakfast for you… several hours ago, to tell you the truth, because I was under the impression that you’d be awake at a reasonable hour so I could serve it.”

Reluctantly Bruce sat up and offered Alfred his arm. “And why would I come down for breakfast?”

“Every Saturday that you and Master Clark have been home for the past number of months you’ve been having breakfast together, sir,” Alfred replied, removing the dressing from Bruce’s injured arm.

Bruce wrinkled his nose. “Well, he isn’t here so there’s really no reason for me to go through that whole charade.”

Alfred scoffed. “Wasn’t a charade _last_ Saturday when you ate just as many pancakes as Master Clark. And you should know _he_ has breakfast when _you’re_ not here.”

“Yes, well, he has a healthier appetite than I do,” Bruce replied drily.

“I don’t believe I’d like to address the double meaning behind that statement,” Alfred returned just as drily as he finished patching his charge. “But I must say, I am rather surprised that you aren’t joining the Kents for this weekend.”

Bruce hesitated. It hadn’t occurred to him that he should have asked Clark if he’d have liked him to come along. “This is a… family weekend.”

Alfred eyed him critically. “I believe most people consider their spouse to be a part of their family.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Alfred,” Bruce muttered. “You know perfectly well what I mean.”

“And you, sir, know perfectly well that you should be spending the holiday with the Kents.”

Bruce paused momentarily at that and examined his arm.   _Holiday_? He hadn’t even remembered that there was a holiday coming up.

“Mother’s Day, sir,” Alfred announced. “This Sunday.”

“Of course,” Bruce mumbled, looking down at his hands guiltily. He had never been big on celebrating holidays, especially before he and Clark got together, but Mother’s Day and Father’s Day were particularly difficult. He had always tried to observe these holidays in his own way, pay tribute to his parents however he could, but some years he forgot. Sometimes it was easier to forget.

_That_ was what Clark had meant about this weekend possibly being difficult for him. He smiled a soft, bittersweet smile to himself at that. It was true that he didn’t like for Clark to worry too much… but he’d be forever grateful that Clark was concerned.

“May I speak freely, sir?” Alfred asked.

Bruce nodded. “I don’t imagine I could stop you.”

“Master Bruce, I have known you your entire life and I know as well as anyone what your parents meant to you,” he said gently. “And they would be immensely proud of you and the man you’ve become… but most of all, of the family you’ve built. Family was important to them, just like it is to you. And if you are concerned that spending Mother’s Day with Mrs. Kent would be disloyal, you needn’t worry. The Kents are your family now, and your mother would be proud to have a son who cared enough for his mother-in-law to do something special for her.”

Bruce bit his bottom lip as he listened quietly. Alfred was right, he knew. Alfred was always right.

“Sir?” Alfred continued. Bruce looked up and nodded that Alfred should go on, so the older man concluded, “Go to Kansas.”

Bruce nodded. “Will you see that Damian calls his mother tomorrow?”

Alfred cleared his throat. “I will, of course.”

“I feel as if I should do something for you,” Bruce offered, getting out of bed.

Alfred cracked a smile. “I’m not your mother, sir.”

Bruce thought back to some of the times throughout his life when Alfred had done things for him, given him advice he didn’t ask for but desperately needed, and cared for him when no one else would… and he smiled. Alfred was a mother and father in one, and he was lucky to have him. They all were.

But instead of saying anything like that, something that Bruce would fumble through and would embarrass the reserved Englishman anyways, he simply asked, “Well, there isn’t a Butler’s Day, is there?”

“We shall have to make one,” Alfred replied. “And you leaving here, and not subjecting me to watching you mope and pine the way you do when your husband is gone longer than fifteen minutes will be gift enough.”

&&&

Alfred booked Bruce a seat on an afternoon flight to the small, local airport in Smallville. Bruce packed his pajamas and a change of clothes before heading out to the garden. This place still wore his mother’s influence more than any other in the Manor, and he didn’t spend as much time out there as he probably should have.

Walking through the grounds, Bruce was reminded of the teas his mother used to throw when he was a boy. He remembered the women filing through the house, the linen dresses and carefully coiffed hairdos… and he remembered the warm smile with which his mother greeted them all. It wasn’t unlike the smile that spread across his own face when he was truly happy… usually because of Clark, as overly-romantic as that was to admit.

With a little sigh, Bruce approached one of the rose bushes and clipped a few of the beautiful white flowers. He then took a deep breath and walked the familiar path across the grounds to the family cemetery. With reverence, he approached his parents’ graves.

Silently he placed the flowers and dusted the headstone. He wanted to say something but he never knew what to say. Words failed him even in easier situations, so now all he was capable of was a nod and a hope that somehow his feelings, the love and gratitude and respect, came across in his actions. He lived everyday (or, rather, every night) with the reminder of how much he missed his parents and with the desire to pay tribute to them… but sometimes it was hard to just remember them as they were without his memories leading him down a negative train of thought.

He told himself that he’d have to try to learn to do that.

After a few more minutes of quiet contemplation, Bruce headed back to the house, retrieved the bag he had packed, and had Alfred drive him to the airport.

&&&

Bruce’s flight was delayed twice before it ended up leaving. By the time he landed, it was late, too late to rent a car, so he had to take a cab out to the Kent farm. He quietly let himself in the house and went upstairs to Clark’s old bedroom.

He found Clark sitting up in bed, reading one of the heavily creased paperback books he had read countless other times… one of the ones that still stayed on the shelves of what was now Conner’s bedroom, though he was sleeping on the couch tonight.

“I was wondering when you’d get here,” Clark said without even looking up.

Bruce scoffed. “Alfred called?”

Clark closed his book and smiled warmly. “He didn’t have to.” Clark patted the mattress beside him to beckon Bruce to come over.

Bruce kicked his shoes off and padded across the floor to the twin bed and snuggled into the small space that Clark didn’t take up. Clark’s arms were soon around him and his face was buried in the soft, heather grey t-shirt the man wore, and he felt like he was in the right place.

Clark didn’t ask about his day or if he was alright because Clark knew him well enough to know. He just pressed a soft kiss into Bruce’s hair and said, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“So am I,” Bruce returned.

&&&

The next morning, when Clark and Bruce went downstairs Jonathan, Kara, and Conner were already in the kitchen, planning the breakfast they’d make Martha.

“Good morning, everyone,” Clark said brightly. Then, jerking his thumb in Bruce’s direction he added, “Hope no one minds that I brought a houseguest.”

Jonathan smiled and offered Bruce his hand. “Good to see you, son. Martha will be delighted you came to see her.”

“And I don’t care if you’re here as long as you two didn’t have sex in my bed,” Conner replied with grin.

Kara wrinkled her nose. “Gross! Did not need that mental image!”

“Oh, please,” Clark scoffed, playfully punching Conner in the arm. “You’d all know if we’d gotten up to anything last night.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Do not encourage that line of thought.”

“That’s right,” Jonathan said. “You can make your dirty jokes later… we have a breakfast to cook.”

Kara nodded. “I’m making bacon, Kon is making eggs, and Pa is making pancakes.”

“Maybe you two could do the coffee and juice and whatnot?” Conner suggested.

Clark smiled. “I actually bought a bottle of champagne when I went out yesterday. Mimosas. And Sprite for virgin mimosas… for the under twenty-one crowd.”

“And fruit,” Bruce added. “That should go nicely.”

Everyone milled about in the kitchen, the cooks trying to share the one stove and limited counter space. Soon the kitchen was filled with delicious scents and Clark was getting a tray out of the pantry closet so that Martha could be served breakfast in bed. Jonathan had set a vase full of fresh flowers on the table earlier that morning, so Clark picked them up and set them on the tray as he arranged the food just so.

But before anyone could carry Martha’s Mother’s Day breakfast up to her, she came downstairs and sighed heavily at what she saw in the kitchen.

“I am not going to be eating that breakfast in bed,” she announced. “I’m not sick, and I want to sit and eat with my family.” Then she noticed Bruce standing beside Clark and grinned at him. “Bruce, honey! My favorite son-in-law!” She came close and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m so glad you joined us after all.”

After that, the family all sat down to breakfast together and talked and laughed. Even Bruce cracked a few smiles. He liked coming to Smallville. He had always liked Clark’s family… and he was so grateful that they were now _his_ family, too. His family had grown so much since he became Batman… and he was grateful for each member of that family. The Kents, Alfred, his kids, Clark… it all felt like more than he deserved.

After the family had eaten, Jonathan took Martha on a Sunday drive, Conner and Kara went on to play fetch with Krypto, and Bruce and Clark took kitchen clean up duty. But while Bruce was washing the dishes and Clark was drying them, Clark had to fly off to take care of a brush fire, so Bruce was left alone in the kitchen. That is, he was alone for a few minutes… until Martha wandered in to offer her help.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to clean this whole kitchen by yourself,” she said. “You didn’t mess it up by yourself.”

“But it’s Mother’s Day,” Bruce protested. “You shouldn’t have to work.”

“It’s my day so I get to do what I want,” she announced with determination, snatching a towel from Bruce’s hand. He knew better than to argue.

“You know, it means a lot to Clark that you came here today,” she continued as she set to work. “Means a lot to me, too.”

Bruce nodded. He didn’t exactly know what to say and he didn’t want to say the wrong thing, so he remained silent.

Martha, seeming to sense that, went on, “You know, the wonderful thing about a family is that it’s a living thing… growing and changing. But it’s still nice on days like this to think back.”

Bruce sighed. “I’ve been doing some of that lately.”

“Oh?” Martha asked.

“Did you know my mother was also named Martha?” Bruce asked casually.

She smiled and nodded. “I did, yes.”

“She was very warm,” Bruce went on. “And she was hopeful. She saw the good in people.”

Martha laughed. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Bruce smiled to himself. “I suppose so.”

“I’ve never seen pictures… what did she look like?” Martha asked, cautiously.

“Well, she had these big brown eyes and dark hair…,” Bruce thought aloud. “She was beautiful. When I was a little boy, I always thought she looked a little bit like Snow White. Childish, I know…”

“No,” Martha interrupted with a smile. “It’s sweet.”

Bruce looked down at his hands, still under the dishwater, and nodded. “Thank you for listening.”

“Thank you for opening up to me,” she replied.

Before Bruce could respond, he heard the back door open and then close, and without looking, he knew Clark had returned. Martha kissed her son on his cheek and excused herself from the kitchen as Bruce rinsed the last dish and wiped his hands on a dish towel.

Clark walked up behind him and put his head on Bruce’s shoulder and wrapped his hands around his waist. Bruce smiled and closed his eyes at the contact. “Take care of the fire?”

“I did,” Clark replied quietly. He then pressed a kiss to Bruce’s cheek and whispered, “Have I told you today that I love you?”

Bruce leaned his own head back a little. “You haven’t.”

“Well, I do,” Clark announced. “I love you and I’m proud of you.”

Bruce put his hands on Clark’s and held tightly. “Why are you proud?”

Clark hummed. “I know today hasn’t been easy for you. But you were here for my mom when you didn’t have to be.”

Bruce turned around and looped his arms around Clark’s neck and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. When they were able to part, Bruce gave a little nod. “Of course I was here. Where else would I be?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little bit sleep deprived and a little bit sick, so I hope this turned out okay and that you all enjoyed it =)


End file.
